Push & Pull
by lavenderskyxx
Summary: I didn’t like that he was finding out everything about me. I was single, a doctor, and I didn’t forget a damn thing about him.' Derek/Casey. Two-shot.
1. Chapter 1

What's up everyone? Here's a two-shot for you, and I'm posting both parts at once! I'm not sure if I like the ending but please review and let me know what you think. :] I wrote this in Casey's point of view.

P.S. Hope everyone enjoyed the Vancouver 2010 Olympic Games as much as I did. I'm so proud to be Canadian!

P.P.S. I know Casey is kind of young to be playing the role she is in this story, but remember that she is very smart and capable.

**Push & Pull**

I had a love hate relationship with my doctor when I was younger. At the end of every visit, he would give me a yellow lollipop from the jar of lollipops he kept on his desk, next to the miniature doctor figurine that was more tacky than tasteful. That didn't bother me as much as the horrid prescriptions he'd write on that slip of paper, because I could never make them out. I vowed to myself then that if I ever became a doctor, I would give lollipops AND write in pretty cursive writing.

However, after going through several years of school and now having to deal with countless patients a day, I began to understand why he couldn't write properly, or wrote so fast it was unintelligible. He was in the practice of having to deal with said countless patients a day, and he was simply overworked.

Signing off a prescription that I could barely make out myself, I passed it on to the elderly woman who gave me a tender smile. That was the only redeeming moment of this job, the gratefulness that your patients held for you.

Pushing my glasses up my nose with a slender finger bare of nail polish, I quickly pressed down on the intercom.

"Hi, Pat. Are we good for today?" I asked, hoping she would give me the right answer.

"Right you are, Miss Casey. Go home and rest, it's been a long day." The somewhat older woman replied back, and I felt my face break into a relieved smile. I was working from early morning to evenings every day, and part of me wondered if it was worth it. I was twenty-eight and from the time I entered medical school, I had invested myself so much in my work that I never found time for myself.

As I looked out at the calm street, the sun's deep orange glows flowing over my office, I let my lab coat fall onto my chair and felt my shoulders slump in exhaustion.

It had been several months since I had seen my family who were still living in London. I managed to get my own small clinic in a quiet neighbourhood in Toronto, and somehow the patient list kept growing.

I considered myself lucky most days.

But there were days when I got home to my single apartment, and I wondered if it was all worth it. I wondered as I watched insipid reality shows about people dating, and getting married and having kids, if it was all worth it. Even my fellow classmates who had stressful days like mine were beginning to settle down.

I've always known that I'm an attractive woman, and that if I just put myself out there, I wouldn't have trouble doing these things that I secretly _longed_ for.

And I hated myself, for acting like some scorned woman who had once lost love and couldn't get back up again. But this is what he was _always_ capable of, and what he had _reduced_ me to.

Stacking up some papers and files on my desk, I turned off the desk light and pushed in my chair. I gripped at the back of it, closing my eyes for a brief moment. Another day had ended, but a part of me didn't want to go home and face the empty life that I actually led.

It was at this moment that I reminded myself that I'm Casey McDonald, and I can do anything I put my mind to. I'm successful and I'm damn good at what I do. It continued like this every day for as long as I could remember, and it was a routine I resigned myself to.

So when I heard a knock at the door, I thought it was Pat coming to tell me I should go out that night and enjoy myself like a normal young person like she told me every day. I would tell her that I have plans with a couple girlfriends, but she'd give me a knowing look from the sad glint in my eyes. All my friends were settling down and girls' nights didn't happen as often.

I'd smile anyway, and lock up the office and head home on my own.

So when I opened the door, I had to look up, instead of down, because this person towered over me unlike Pat. When I opened the door, I had to take a step back, back into familiar territory, because I was suddenly faced with something I never thought I'd face again.

When I opened the door, _he _was standing there, with an all too familiar smirk adorning his lips.

I felt my eyes widen, and my heart race uncontrollably. I felt my fingers digging into my palms, and my jaw tightened.

"Think you can squeeze in another patient, doc?" his smooth voice that _always_ sounded like he had just rolled out of bed flowed over my body like that warm shower I'd take after a long day. And I _cursed_ myself for feeling like those scorned woman who fell at the feet of the man who had scorned them in the first place.

"Derek Venturi. Never thought I'd see your ugly mug around here." I said defiantly. I wasn't miss sweet Casey McDonald anymore, hell, I _never_ was with him. But I had made the mistake of letting my guard down.

He pouted then, and I found myself immediately drawn to the action. His pretty mouth that I envied set against his strong jaws and perfectly placed above his smooth chin. The long girlish eyelashes hovering over the defined cheekbones and dark mischievous eyes that he always looked at me with, with a glint of desire and happiness.

I _didn't_ want him looking at me like that. The last time he'd laid eyes on me, they were completely devoid of emotion and it had sent chills through my body. He hadn't changed much, except his face looked more mature and defined and his presence seemed to take over the room more than usual if it was possible.

"Casey, Casey, Casey." He drawled then in that annoying voice, and I felt like I was fifteen again.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I asked, and I walked around him to shut the door. I'm not sure what Pat was up to, but I didn't need her hearing about this. I didn't want her to see this man that _practically embodied_ a huge chunk of the _regret _I that had in my life. The rest of the regret was _letting my mother marry his father_.

"Is that any way to talk to your sick step-brother?" he asked, seating himself down on a chair and getting comfortable like he owned the place. I fought the queasy butterflies that rose in my stomach. It was just like him to reappear in my life _without_ any warning, _without_ letting me rehearse my part of the script. This is what he always did, he always caught me off guard and constantly worked to _shatter my perfectly organized world_ and _made me live with myself_ sans the petty Casey facade.

"You're pretty sick in the head if you think you can just waltz in here like we're best friends." I retorted with a clipped tone. I really wasn't in the mood for this. It had been so long since I had seen him last and I looked around me briefly to check if I was really in my office, and not caught in the desert experiencing some wild heat stroke induced mirage.

"Not a lot of girls can say they've had the luck of knowing Derek Venturi as long as you have." He said, and we both stiffened slightly at his mention of other women. Apparently his arrogance and idiocy hasn't been replaced by maturity, and they wouldn't be for a while yet.

"Doesn't really count, because you know, I haven't seen nor heard from you in six years." It was only in that moment that I realized it had been six years, when it felt like everything happened yesterday. It _sickened_ me that he left such a lasting impression.

"You didn't contact me." _Excuse me?_

"Why in seven hells would I want to do that? What, did you forget how to use a computer, or a phone or even send a letter?" It was easier coming down on him, so much easier to be condescending and acting like I was above him.

He broke eye contact for the first time since he came in, and shifted his gaze to the floor.

"I didn't think you wanted to hear from me." _You're damn right about that. _I swallowed the bitterness that had risen in my throat, and sat down at my desk, putting my lab coat back on. It gave me a sense of security, a reminder of all that I had accomplished even after he left me.

"Look, as much as I'd like to see to you, I'm not accepting any new patients at this time." I said carefully, in the professional voice I sometimes adopted with people. And on cue, he just scoffed at me. I hated that he could see right through me.

"And you still can't lie after thirteen years." He laughed then, and I felt my chest warming at the sound. I hated it, and I _hated_ him. I _hated_ that he could still stir something inside me, whether it be hatred, annoyance, lust or love. I _wanted to feel nothing for him_, to prove to him and to myself that Derek Venturi wasn't the only person who could make me feel as deeply as I did in so many different extremes.

His eyes narrowed imperceptibly, and I could tell that he was seeing the affect he had on me. To anyone else, I would seem completely normal, but he could always read me so well. Too well.

I let out a sigh and ran a hand through my hair that now fell to the small of my back, and I watched with some reserved pride as he stared at it for a moment. If I gave Derek what he wanted, maybe he would disappear. The guy wasn't that complicated.

"What can I do for you?" I forced a smile, and wrote up a new file with the name Derek Venturi on top in the small white boxes. He watched with fascination as I filled in his information, even his health card number. I convinced myself it was because I had a good memory, but we both knew otherwise. I asked him for his phone number and address, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't ask the family from time to time about his whereabouts. Of course, I only did that because I wanted to avoid him. But I'd be lying if I said that was completely true, as well.

This would be the last time I saw him, and I'd feed his file into my shredder at home. If I knew him as well as I thought I did, this was a one-time deal and I wouldn't see him again. The scary part was, that's what I thought six years ago.

"Well," he started, scratching the back of his neck and a lazy smile spreading across his face. "I've been having headaches lately, the kind that spreads into your neck you know?" His voice was _slow_ and _creaky_, the voice he'd use whenever I woke up beside him each morning.

"Hmm. Usually those kinds of headaches are induced by stress." Derek smirked at that, and I knew he was thinking that I was the one synonymous with stress, while he was the opposite.

"I'm not really stressed about anything in particular," he looked straight at me then, and I felt my heart skip a beat. "But it's been going on for a while. My doctor went on vacay for three weeks, and I didn't feel like going to some random person I didn't know."

"Oh, so you decided to pester your dear step-sister who happens to be a physician. How nice for you." I said dryly, and I felt the professional facade I had up but for a moment begin to slip away.

"Now, now Casey." He said patronizingly, and I saw him glance at my hands for an instant, his eyes smiling at the lack of a ring. I didn't like that he was finding out everything about me. I was single, a doctor, and I _didn't forget a damn thing about him_. I had broken my last promise to him of forgetting everything about him and everything about the time we had spent together. I could tell he was relishing in it.

"Well, go over and sit down on the bed and I'll get to you in a second." I said, pushing my chair out and scribbling a few things down on his file. I felt like I was wasting my time even doing such a thing, but my _keenerism_ as he'd call it, prevented me from not doing it perfectly.

"Thanks doc, I really appreciate it." He drawled lazily, that shit-eating grin permanently attached to his face.

So when I put my hand on his chest, directing him to lie down so I could check his blood pressure, I tried my damnedest to ignore the irrevocable _shivers_ that passed through my body at the contact. I _didn't_ want to think about the way his breath hitched, or the way he suddenly avoided my gaze like he was walking on eggshells with me. I _didn't_ want to think about the way I _could tell a story about every movement he made_ because we still knew each other that well, even after not setting eyes on each other for six long years.

When I wrapped and attached the velcro to his strong arm and I was forced to touch his skin, we became silent then, and I could see the thousands of thoughts running through his mind. If I was sixteen, I would tell him to stop thinking so hard lest he hurt himself. But I'm twenty-eight, a grown woman, and _not in his life_ anymore.

Why did he have to choose now to come barrelling into my life like it was nothing?

"Your blood pressure's normal, so there's nothing wrong there. How long have you been experiencing these headaches?" As soon as I said that, it felt like I had hit a nerve so to speak and he didn't have an immediate response.

Something about the way he looked up at me then, his expression suddenly naked and _vulnerable _and I had a sinking feeling that his headaches had been there for a long time. Maybe since...

But I was getting ahead of myself, _obviously._

The sun was beginning to disappear from the horizon, and the street lights began to flicker on. The bright fluorescent lights in the office were becoming strangely intrusive, and I couldn't look at his face anymore. He was still looking at me with that expression, and I felt my bottom lip tremble slightly with worry. That was a mistake because he immediately dropped his gaze to my lips. His eyes darkened in that way they always did before he kissed me, or touched me, or whenever we ended up on the floor wrestling over some inane object that was just used as an excuse.

I turned quickly, wanting to avoid the obvious _moment _that had just occurred and I asked him to sit up and join me by my desk. He was still quiet and it unnerved me. The rustling noises he created stepping off the bed kicked at my nerves as I was acutely _aware_ of every sound, every movement, and every breath he took. I hated being like this.

"Okay, so, I'm going to ask that you get your blood work done – sometime soon preferably," I said tersely, filling out a form and checking off the appropriate boxes. "I'm also going to give you a prescription for some light pain killers that should help for a while." I was talking to him, but all he did was stare at me.

I cringed internally when I realized my prescription for him was in _pretty cursive handwriting_, not the unintelligible mess I had gotten used to doing. I handed it to him, and like a cliché drama flick, our fingers touched and I didn't dare look at him in the eye to see his reaction. I didn't need to. I could just _feel _his arrogance rolling off him in waves.

"Do you have any questions?" I said finally, writing some notes down on his file and preparing to close it. I decided I'd keep in there in my office, and _not because I didn't want to shred it after all. _

It was literally a fraction of a second before he spoke up, but it felt like years.

"Case?" he said with too much familiarity for my liking. I pushed my glasses up my nose, and I set my eyes on him.

"Normally my patients call me Dr. McDonald, but I'll let you off with Casey." I let a subtle rise in intonation creep into my voice when I uttered the second syllable in my name. Not enough to be rude, and not enough to seem like I'd let him have his way.

"Case-_y_." He amended, and I hid my smile at his evident irritation. "Thanks for this, I honestly thought you'd throw me out the minute you laid eyes on me." He gave me this warm smile, the one he'd always give me when we'd work together on something, or we helped the other out in some way. I felt myself smiling back against my will.

"I honestly thought about doing that too." I said, humour colouring my voice. He laughed again, and I ignored the way how attractive he looked with his loose shirt hanging on him, rising up and baring skin that I hadn't seen since that night.

"So, you'll call me if anything's wrong with test results right?" he asked, and I knew it was his way of asking if I'd let myself be a part of his life again. The smile I had faltered a little bit, and immediately his did as well.

"I can send your results to your physician, Derek." I told him curtly, and I saw his shoulders drop a little.

"Casey, can we—" _No, we really can't Derek._

"Now," I said standing up and gathering papers again. "It's getting late and I need to get going." I shrugged off my lab coat once again and I didn't need to turn around to know that his eyes were tracing every detail of my body. Self-consciously, I adjusted my pencil skirt and silk blouse.

"Oh, got a hot date tonight?" he asked, his voice dripping into that familiar inflection of a sneer that he often used with me when he wasn't pleased. I felt myself grimace at his jealousy, and I wondered if he erased the memories of when they had last seen each other.

"Maybe, but why do you care?"

I always knew that he cared. When I went out with that scumbag coach, he cared. When I dated Sam, he cared. When I wasted my time with Max and Truman, he cared. But he never wanted to admit it.

"Just wondering." _Yeah, okay. _

But I was Casey McDonald, and I was constantly working to put up a nice, polite and perfect facade because that's what people expected of me. I didn't want people to know that I wasn't perfect or that I wasn't always in a cheery disposition. Derek always had the ability to strip that down.

So when I gave him a fake smile, and told him that it was good to see him again – he_ knew_ it was a lie. When he waited there stubbornly for me to pack up, and followed me as I locked up the office, he _knew_ I was restraining myself. When we stood there out on the street afterwards, the street lights illuminating our shadows on the sidewalk, he looked at me with what I thought was longing, but I didn't want to kid myself.

He knew that I wanted to cry, and he kept his distance. He knew that I was still mad at him for what he did, and that I might never forgive him. But he just didn't say _anything. _

"We should... go see the family sometime." He tried, but he knew it was a lost cause. I smiled sadly, and turned towards my car that was parked on the street.

"I'm not so sure if that's a good idea." I said finally, and his smile finally faltered and he wasn't kidding himself anymore. It was awkward for a moment, and I didn't know what to say.

A few cars whizzed by on the silent side street, and a chilly breeze blew past us, rustling our clothes. Suddenly, he closed the distance between us and he wrapped his arms around me, his lips in dangerous proximity to my neck. I could feel his warm breaths cascading over my skin, and I was too shocked to even _move_. He released me before I could even utter a sound, and he threw me a signature smile that used to make me weak in the knees – and still did.

"See you around, Case." He said then, purposely leaving out the last syllable. I gave him a brief wave, too scared of what my voice would sound like if I tried to speak. He turned and walk down the dark road, without looking back. I stood there watching him until he disappeared into the darkness, the bright city lights shedding light on the inevitable distance that was forming between us once again.

-

When I received his blood test results a week later, I sent them off immediately to his doctor without reviewing them. I didn't want the chance of me needing to get involved in his life again should something actually be wrong.

But I knew Derek, he was a _stubborn ass_ and he wouldn't let anything bring him down from his self-proclaimed glory, not even a common cold. I supposed he was taken down a peg or two when he had the chicken pox, and at that memory I resisted the urge to smile.

With that out of the way, I could say goodbye and good riddance. I _wouldn't_ think about the way he held me that night ever again.

Did I mention that Derek Venturi is a _stubborn ass_?

"Are you sure you're not suffering from a psychological disorder?" I asked him, my voice steady. He was standing there in the doorway, sans appointment, sans modesty, sans sense of any kind. He raised his eyebrow at me with that silly smirk plastered on his stupid face.

"You must be if you thought it'd be a good idea to come back here. I'm not a psychiatrist by the way, I never could become one because you drove me crazy first." I rambled, and his smirk melted into this soft smile that I didn't stare at. Did stare at. He ran a hand through his hair that was still messy, but shorter than I remembered it to be.

I noticed with a sinking heart that the office, that had been wrought with tension the last time he graced me with his presence, was considerably lighter and I knew then that this wasn't progressing in a healthy direction. Derek and I, even though we bickered and threw insults at each other at every opportunity, it was _our _way of getting along.

The only moments we didn't get along were when he caused me to cry, or when I caused him to second guess himself. _When he betrayed me, and when we didn't talk for extended periods of time_.

"Dr. Case," he began then, walking towards my desk and seating himself down once more in that chair. "I need healing." He said, and I refused to think about the way he had sung _Sexual Healing _while making us pancakes – the ones where you only needed water because he didn't know how to make the other kind.

I sighed exasperatedly, and I knew it was just a ruse to see me. If I said that though... it might lead the conversation to unfamiliar territory that I would _never_ be ready for.

"What's the matter this time?" I replied curtly, drawing up another sheet for him in his file.

"I've been having strange stomach aches lately, and I don't have anyone to kiss it and make it better." He whined.

He went on to rub his stomach, in a way that I knew he was faking it. He knew just as well as I did that I wouldn't want to call him out on it, and I was sure he figured that he had nothing to lose. It was always a battle of wills, to see who would crack first. I glared at him, in a way I couldn't with anyone else, because I was challenging him. He returned the look and I raised my eyebrow.

"Really now, how long has this ache persisted?" I asked, adopting my professional voice once again. He pretended to think, rubbing his chin with his fingers.

"Hmm, a few days now I'd say." And even though he was lying, he always sounded so damn genuine. I thought about the next actions that I could take. Normally with patients who feel aches in the abdomen region, I'd lay them down on the table and tap at their stomachs, asking them if it was tender in a certain area. It that way, I could narrow down the problem and ask them further questions.

Derek was playing a pretty good game. He cornered me once again, and I wondered to myself for the millionth time in my life why he never used his craftiness when it came to school. I realized in that moment that I wasn't sure what Derek was even doing with his life, because I refused to ask the family that many details.

I shook off my nerves and breathed in slowly. Derek wasn't going to leave, and I didn't want to think about how his presence was staving off that empty feeling I'd been having lately.

"Go lie down on the bed, moron." I sneered at him, not afraid to show that he had indeed cornered me.

"Tsk, tsk." Was all he said in a teasing voice.

The family always wondered what had happened between Derek and I. They had figured out pretty quickly that we were together and had begrudgingly come to accept it after a while, Marti claiming that she knew it would happen a long time ago. I never told them after we broke up that it was _just a game_ to Derek, and it _wasn't_ some monumental relationship in which we were meant for each other, like everyone including me thought it was.

I was standing over him then, and I squared my shoulders. I could do this. I was an adult and I could handle this.

I lifted his shirt. I tried not to blush. He tried not to smile.

He was looking at me with those eyes, with that expression, and it made me sick to think that we still had that affect on each other. When we were too close, it made for disastrous results. I just wanted to get this over with.

I proceeded to lightly touch his stomach, feeling the hard skin underneath the soft flesh and I could smell his unique Derek smell that made me feel a bit light-headed. I clenched my jaw inside my mouth, and attempted to focus.

"Does it hurt here?" My voice was low and breathy, and I refused to look at him.

"No, it's good there." He said, and I noticed his voice had changed as well. I pulled my stethoscope to my ear and placed the cold chest piece onto his stomach. He shivered at the contact, and I noticed with quick eyes his Adam's apple move up and down slowly. He was getting turned on by this, the _nerve_ of him.

"Breathe for me, in and out slowly." I commanded, listening through the stethoscope for anything unusual. I touched the area below his rib cage and pressed in, watching him twitch with hurt. I recoiled slightly, and questioned his reaction. I looked up at his face and I wondered idly if he had become a professional actor because he had lying down to a science at this point. I had to also wonder if maybe he really was sick, and maybe I had become so distrustful that I assumed he lied about everything.

I sighed and rubbed the bridge of my nose. "It seems like it might be just gas, Derek. Not surprising because you always found time to share that gas with me when we were younger." And he laughed, the skin around his eyes crinkling slightly, making him look even more handsome and distinguished.

"So what do I do, Dr. Case?" he asked with a lazy smile.

"I could prescribe a light laxative..." I watched with satisfaction as horror spread across his face.

"Really, uhm, don't I just drink a lot of tea and eat lots of beans or something?" he scrambled, and I grinned genuinely for the first time in his presence.

"Beans don't go through your system as fast as Edwin's," We both grimaced at the various memories. "I think the laxative will ease the pain a lot sooner." I turned and walk back to my desk, writing up the prescription.

"Caseyy." He whined, and I ignored my heart fluttering. I just smiled at him, and signed off the prescription, noticing with despair that it was in pretty cursive handwriting once again.

"Don't Casey me. You want to get better, do as I say." I said finally with a smirk, knowing I had won our little challenge.

"If I do this, then you have to promise me you'll hang out with me sometime." _What? _I couldn't say I was surprised, but I was always amazed at Derek's blatant audacity.

I narrowed my eyes, "Doctors don't do bargains or trades with their patients, you idiot."

"Come on, Casey. You know you want to." And we were back to arrogance.

"Absolutely not. I have too much class to even say what I'd really like to say to you," and he flinched as if I hit him, because he knew that I was holding myself back from telling him how I really felt about us. "And it's just not a good idea." He frowned, and I waited for his response.

"Fine, but if you know me at all, you know I don't take no for an answer." He got up, swiping the prescription from my desk and sauntered out the door without as much as a goodbye.

That was because it wasn't _goodbye _it was _see you later. _

_tbc._


	2. Chapter 2

Part II :]

The next morning, I entered the clinic with trepidation. I glanced around the room to see if there were any five foot eleven step-brothers hiding behind plants or pillars. I breathed a sigh of relief when there were none.

"Hi, Pat. Should be a good day, huh?" I asked conversationally, coming upon the reception desk and smiling at her gratefully.

"Of course Miss Casey, it is Friday after all." Fridays were always somewhat slow in the office, and not as many patients came in. She figured unlike her, they had lives to lead and the weekend consisted of the only time they could do so.

Gathering the files of patients that would be coming in today, I entered my office and placed my purse on my desk when Pat chimed in on the intercom.

"Miss Casey, that strange boy who says he knows you and has even said he's seen your naked baby pictures is here." Pat's amused voice flowed through and I stiffened. Before I could react, my door flashed open and the bane of my sorry excuse for an existence stood there.

"Derek Venturi, what in seven hells are you doing here, _again_?"

"I'll have you know that I stubbed my toe yesterday and it's still hurting." Derek whined, but I could see the playful mischievousness in his eyes.

"5 year olds stub their toes, they cry and they get over it. If it still hurts, soak it in warm water until whatever swelling goes down. Goodbye now." I waved him off nonchalantly, going back to my files, but I was still very aware of his presence.

"But Caseyy."

"But nothing, have my mom give me a call should you die sometime." I sneered, hoping to hurt him at least a little bit, but as usual, he brushed it off as if it were nothing.

"Sure, whatever you want Case."

"It's Case_y_, damnit!" I slammed my small fist on the desk, and when I looked up he was gone.

_Five days later_.

"I totally cut myself shaving, and it's so uncool to walk around with this wad of paper stuck to my face. Do something about it." Derek was sitting across from me, pointing a finger at his unfortunate accident.

"I appreciate the humour and you know, the wasting of my time, but get out." I said with a straight face, but I knew he could see the irritation blazing in my eyes.

_Four days later._

"So like, because I'm so tall and whatever," He began that afternoon, and I rolled my eyes because he wasn't really that tall. He was tall enough that I reached his chest and his arms could wrap right around my shoulders. I didn't want to think about that however, so I tried to focus on whatever lamebrain problem he had now.

"I totally dinged my forehead this morning, and I've had a headache ever since." He pouted at me then, and I threw my head down at my desk. Would this torment ever end? I knew every time he came to visit me, it was just a way to see me without the potential awkwardness the outside world brought to our relationship. Who knows what would happen if we were alone somewhere like a restaurant or one of our places.

I could tell that even_ he_ wasn't ready for that yet.

_Two days later_.

"Oh my god. You were here two days ago, what's the deal?" I asked him, slipping my thin silver rimmed glasses off my nose and rubbing at my temples. It was beginning to turn into a routine, him showing up at my office un_expectedly _and expecting me to take care of him.

The days were getting shorter but I found that I didn't lament the disappearance of the sun during the evenings as I normally did. I still went home alone in the darkness, and spent my nights alone in the darkness, but his _memory_ would linger in my mind. For years I had trouble remembering the way he smelled or the way he looked at me, but now it was so easy to recall those memories now that he had come back into my life. Even though we hadn't so much as mentioned what happened long ago, I had come to accept that he wasn't leaving. He just had that way of wearing me down.

He walked in, but I noticed he was limping slightly. I looked up at his face and it was twisted in pain, and I could see sweat forming on his forehead.

"Oh my god, what's wrong?" I felt my heart race, and I jumped up to help him to the chair to sit down. I remembered distinctly a time during a hockey game when he got seriously hurt. I remember being on the ice, and hugging his bloody head to my chest while the referee and his coach were trying to separate him from me.

I felt tears prickle at my eyes from the memory, and I shook myself out of it, willing myself to focus on the present.

"Derek, what are you feeling right now?" I asked gently, brushing his hair back from his forehead and flinching at how hot it was. "Oh god you're running a fever." I grimaced, rushing over to the small sink and soaking a small white towel with cold water and pressing it against his head. A goofy smile spread across his face and I ignored the upward twitching of my own lips.

"I feel like complete and utter shit." He croaked out then, and he couldn't even breathe properly because he was in so much pain.

"Oh god, oh god." I was beginning to freak out, something I hadn't done in a long time.

"_Space Case_," he said then with so much familiarity that I could feel my heart squeezing in my chest, and I gripped at his shoulders. "Relax, I can't really calm you down when I'm like this." He managed a small smile but cringed when another bout of pain hit him.

I breathed in deeply and ran through the normal procedure. I was a freaking doctor for god's sake, so why did I revert back to a teenager?

"Do you feel nausea, muscle aches, pain in your abdomen?" I asked then, flipping over the white towel on his forehead so that the cooler side reached him.

"Yeah, all of those. It's like hard for me to breathe right now, Case." He said, lifting his hand to his shoulder and covering mine. I blinked, feeling the inevitable shivers pass through me.

"Okay, have you thrown up?" I asked then, wiping the sweat on his brow and neck. He looked up at me like I was about to save his life and I threw him a critical glance.

"No, but I really want to right now." His body convulsed, and I knew he was extremely nauseous. Not good.

"Derek, try and go to the bathroom right over there," I pointed to the room next to my office in the hallway. "And throw up, you'll feel like shit I know—" and he raised his eyebrows at my use of what I used to refer to as the s-word. "But you'll feel better in a few days, your body is trying to expel the virus you have." His eyes widened comically.

"V-virus?"

"Stomach flu, D." I said, and I stepped back slightly from him when I realized I had used his nickname. Things were getting entirely too comfortable between us, and while a month ago, I would've adamantly said I didn't like it. But now... now I just wasn't sure of _anything_. I was still sure that I hated him though. I hated him when I was in love with him, and I hated him now because he threw me into a state of uncertainty with him, much like our teenage years.

"No one's called me that in a long time, Case."

He gave me that look again, the same one he did before he held me that night outside on the sidewalk. I couldn't look away as much as I tried, but then he broke the moment by running to the bathroom with his hands covering his mouth.

I sighed heavily. I didn't know about the last six years, but I'd never seen him this sick before. I knew I was pulling a Casey, but I couldn't help but feel obligated to the poor lout. Walking out to the reception area, I smiled gratefully at Pat.

"So... that boy who has regretfully seen my baby pictures," I started and she smiled at me. "He's... um, how do I put this?" Over the years that I had started to realize my feelings for Derek as a teenager, I had developed an aversion to referring to him as a _step-brother_ to strangers, and it honestly felt silly to even feel that way but I couldn't help it.

I think back then I felt like if enough people looked at Derek and I as _just a guy and a girl_, and not step-siblings, it would start to be _okay _to have feelings for him.

"He looked mighty sick, Miss Casey. Maybe you'd like to assist him? Your appointments are over for the day after all." Pat said then, giving me one of those smiles that made me question just how perceptive this older lady was. At that moment we heard Derek retching loud enough to reach our ears, and I grimaced.

"I'm going to take him home, so I'll be leaving a bit early." It hit me then that I'd either be going to his place – unlikely because he was probably still a pig who didn't clean up after himself and I couldn't stand it, so that left my home. I didn't want to drive all the way to London and shove a grown man onto my mother to take care of, that was unnecessary and he needed rest as soon as possible.

I wondered to myself if I was making excuses to finally have it out with him, _alone_ and _face to face_ – even if his face was covered in vomit.

"Please, if I had a handsome boy like that to look after, I'd be out of here sooner than you." Pat laughed, and I couldn't help but laugh along with her. She was something else.

"Thanks Pat."

-

"Now look here Venturi, don't get any ideas okay?" We were standing beside my small red honda and he was clutching his stomach, leaning over the hood. He tried to scoff but it came out as some garbled noise. The sun was setting but the air was still warm and comforting. The remaining rays of sunlight lit up his reddish brown hair and I flicked my eyes to his reflection in the car window.

"What ideas? You'll probably use this opportunity to chuck me into Lake Ontario while I am unable to defend myself." He said bitterly, but I could see traces of a smile on his lips.

"You overestimate me really, but no, I'm taking you home." I jingled my keys and throttled them in the lock, popping the back passenger seat door open. Cue second garbled noise.

"W-what? I've been practically like stalking – well, not stalking, but going to see you when I had no right to and barging in on your life and now you're giving me a VIP pass?" He asked as I ducked his head underneath the top of the car, settling him in the seat and doing his seatbelt for him. He was getting progressively worse and I didn't understand why he was still talking.

Not only that, but he was forcing me to think about this whole fucking mess.

Excuse my language, but I must be out of my mind.

"Derek, let me tell you something. I'm doing this because I'm a good person and you just don't know how to take care of yourself. Plus I don't think you have..." I trailed off, because I wasn't sure if he did have another woman in his life or anyone at all who could take care of him. Here I was again, taking charge of a situation when I probably didn't need to. Shutting his door and seating myself in the driver's seat, I started up the car.

"You really haven't changed, doing things you don't want to do because you can't stand it when people around you aren't happy." He muttered under his breath, and I looked at him through the mirror. I frowned and didn't bother to respond. I didn't know what he was trying to get at with that remark, but I wasn't in the mood to get into it at that point.

-

"Okay... you're certainly piling on a lot of debt, D." I said using his nickname once again after I set him down on the bed in the guest bedroom. Mom and Lizzie often slept here when they visited, and it felt weird to have Derek here. It felt weird to have Derek in my life, period.

It honestly felt like an alternate universe. This apartment that I had spent years in alone, and even had enough money to move out now that I was working, was suddenly housing the man I refused to think about for the last six years. I glanced at the picture of our family on the nightstand, the only picture of him that I let myself keep, and it occurred to me that I hadn't moved out because I was still too attached to memories here.

This was the place last I had seen him.

"Oh? How can I pay off this debt of mine? Perhaps a certain kind of favour..." Derek's voice that was already somewhat raspy dropped in pitch and I raised my eyebrow at him. He wasn't seriously coming on to me was he?

"You're completely delusional."

"Last I checked, stomach flu doesn't come complete with delusions. Shouldn't you know that, doc?"

Night had fallen and I reached over to turn on the light next to him. "Well, you need lots of fluids and something to keep the pain at bay – how does soup sound?"

Derek rubbed at his arms then, and I knew he was feeling the chills. "Try not to burn down the place, alright?" He smiled and I turned to walk out of the room.

"Ungrateful son of a bitch." I muttered under my breath.

"What happened to my sweet, innocent, _beautiful _Casey?" he retorted within a second and I stopped in my tracks. Was he implying that he didn't find me attractive anymore?

"_You're_ what happened." I said plainly, throwing him a glance. His eyes trailed down my body like they often had in the last month that he had been back in my life, and I smirked.

"Touché. Hey, hold on the noodles, more on the chicken eh?" he said and I growled at him.

"I'm not your maid Venturi, and I'll do as I see fit. If that means slipping ex-lax in your soup, I'll do it because I can." His eyes widened in horror.

"Don't you have some hypocritical oath or something? Like you can't hurt me because you're my doctor?" He scrambled and I couldn't help but laugh.

"Hypocratic oath you dolt, and I was never your doctor. I'm just your poor sap of a step-sister and I can never seem to..." I trailed off, and the smile on his face faded. He knew what I wanted to say. No matter how much I hated him, I could never _push_ him away if he_ pulled_ hard enough.

I shut the bedroom door and I was met with the empty silence of my apartment. But instead of looking forlornly out on the empty street lit up by the city lights, I walked straight towards the kitchen. It felt like the lord of the lies was instilling purpose in my life again, as if that was surprising by any margin. Derek always pushed me to do better because for some reason he _could see right through me _and I thought that if I showed any moment of weakness, he could use it against me.

Even still, when I had shown moments of weakness in the past, he either yelled at me until I was on top of the world again or he actually comforted me, in his own insensitive jerk way. But when he would look at me with those eyes, even though he would be struggling to get out of a death hug, they would be glittering with a sort of knowing and understanding that I'd always be there for him and that he'd always be there for me.

That's how I knew he cared and that's how I allowed myself to _fall in love with him_, after years of pushing and pulling. So why did everything go horribly wrong? _Why did he stop pulling_?

I loaded the soup and a couple of painkillers on the tray, along with a room temperature glass of ginger ale. Taking a deep breath, I willed myself to walk back to his room and opened the door with a quick free hand.

"Hey, moron. Your food's ready and the tab is getting higher. Whatever will you do to repay me?" He was laying there inattentively reading an old Cosmopolitan magazine, and I wondered at his choice – but I supposed there wasn't anything else to do. He closed it slowly, setting it down on his lap when I walked up to him, placing the tray on the nightstand.

"Hmm, what about a nice kiss?" He smiled cheekily up at me and I felt my eyes narrow into slits.

"Gross much? You have a gnarly virus swimming around in your system, not to mention you're _Derek._" I drawled lazily, reaching over to help him sit up. He cringed in pain, and I tried to be as gentle as I could.

"That's the greatest reason to want to kiss me." He pouted and I felt laughter bubble up inside me. Goddamn him.

"Don't kid yourself, sweetheart." I absently brushed his messy bangs off his forehead, and I felt my heart clench because his fever still had not gone down. He wasn't talking for once and his silence unnerved me. His eyes had darkened again, and I found myself looking at his lips this time. He had the most serious of expressions on his face and unconsciously, I backed up away from him and he grabbed my hand. I _didn't_ let go. I didn't _want_ to let go. But I _had _to let go.

"Casey—" _No._

"I'll be out in the living room, just call me if you need me." I said shakily, avoiding his gaze. This wasn't the office, where there were other people around, even if it was only Pat. This was late at night in my apartment and we were alone.

"I do need you, right now. So stay." He demanded in that commanding voice of his he often used with our younger siblings, and I didn't like it one bit.

"Drink your soup and take the medicine, you won't feel better right away but um, you'll be okay." I had to get out of there. I briskly walked out and shut the door, ignoring his single shout of protest. I knew I wanted to have it out with him, face to face, but I just couldn't do it.

For two hours I stared blankly at the television, not processing anything but the turbulent feelings that were swirling inside me. It was going to become increasingly harder to ignore our past. It's what made us who we are, and how we are with each other.

I heard the hardwood floor cry softly, and I turned at the source of the noise. He was standing there, leaning up against the door, his arm clutching his stomach.

"What are you doing up? You need as much rest as you can get, Derek." I stood up to help him, the sounds from the television fading away into silence and all I could focus on was him. Hooking one arm under his and grasping his shoulder, I tried to lead him to the bedroom but he pulled me with his remaining strength to the couch.

Sighing, I helped him there instead and sat him down. He let out a long breath, leaning back against the couch.

"Casey, we need to talk." He said after moments of silence, and I said nothing. What could I say?

"I mean, you love talking don't you?" He teased and I couldn't say I felt the humour this time. I gave him a sideways glance, and noticed absently in the background the moonlight shining through the dark window.

"I can't talk about this, I don't even know what you want from me, Derek." I put my head in my hands, feeling like I had lost sense of everything.

"I... I'm not sure what I want either," he began, and I ignored the pang of hurt that rang through my body. "I just know that it's always been Derek and Casey – shouldn't that stand for something?" He said, and I could feel the hurt in his voice, the deep regret that he felt. I didn't want to believe it though.

"Then why did you do it, Derek? Did you hate me that much that you had to play me like a fool?" I asked quietly, and I found I didn't have the energy to yell or even cry. I was so _tired_. When we broke up that day, I had gone over this moment in my mind so many times that I eventually lost count and now that it was happening, it simply felt like it wasn't real.

"Casey... you do know that I loved you right?"

"I knew. But I forgot to remember that you're also a sadistic bastard who didn't really know what love was." I said, feeling bitterness flare up in every cell of my body.

"I knew what I felt for you, Case. You're stubbornly impossible not to fall in love with, honestly." I could hear the smile in his voice. "But back then... I was young and didn't have my priorities in check at all. When we started... when we started, it _was _real Casey."

And finally, he had managed to strike up the courage to say what neither of us wanted to.

"By when we started, do you mean when we were fifteen or when we were twenty-one?" We both laughed a little, even if it was broken and we weren't happy at all in that moment.

"That's a good point. But yeah... when we were still in London and dancing around each other like idiots." I looked up at him then, and he was smiling warmly down at me, but his eyes were colder than they normally were.

"Speak for yourself, idiot." I said, and without noticing I was even crying, I felt liquid pool at my chin and I knew then why Derek had been clenching his fists. He hated to see me cry.

"I figured it was the only way I could have you, Casey. We're step-siblings, and even though we were eventually friends, I couldn't even think of doing anything. When the boys on the hockey team dared me ... to make you fall for me, I took them up on their offer, figuring I had nothing to lose. If I went after you and you were disgusted, I could just tell you it was a prank and we'd fight about it and that would be the end of it. If the family cornered us and asked us, I could just tell them the same thing."

"But you never expected me to actually feel the same way." I sighed, feeling like I had been in love with the world's biggest moron.

He was silent then and he leaned over, using all of his strength to cup my face in his large hands, brushing away the tears. He was trying hard to ignore the pain he felt I could tell, and I bit my bottom lip worriedly.

"When we got together, and it went so well... I was the happiest guy ever. My girlfriend was the hottest girl on campus, even if she was a super keener. Surprisingly bagging a smart chick becomes cool in university." He grinned, and I laughed, trying to swat him away.

"You really have a way with words." I said dryly.

"Don't I? Not only that Case, you and I just worked. It just made sense of us to be together. I didn't want to tell you the only reason I stepped up to the plate was because of a bet, you would assume the worst and never trust me again."

"You got that one right." I looked down at my hands, which were blurry because the tears were welling up again.

"Goddamnit, stop crying." He growled and I cracked a small smile. I reached up and wiped my eyes, and running a hand through my hair. I cursed that habit since I knew I had picked it up from Derek whenever he was in a nerve wracking or depressing situation.

"So what now, Derek? Why did you come back?" There was a quiet moment and I felt everything sink in. It wasn't lost on either of us that we were once deeply in love and everything_ had_ been perfect for a time. Our coming together had been _based on lies and half-truths_, and it was then that my trust fell through.

I had seen what Derek was like in high school, I _knew what he was capable of_, and even though I had believed that he was a different person with me, it was in the instant that I found out that all my beliefs crumbled and I felt like I could _hear_ _my heart_ _breaking_.

"I'm not asking that we get back together, so you can exhale." But my sharp intake of breath at his statement made him flinch visibly, and he knew he had said the wrong thing. In reality though, I was just surprised and not that hurt. If I were younger I would've thrown a crying fit, asking him why he wouldn't take me back with open arms, but I wasn't a young girl anymore. I _had moved on _from this.

But if there was one thing that Derek and I had learned from our parents who went through divorces and other tribulations in their lives, was that adults often told themselves things that they _didn't_ necessarily _believe_ so that they could lead their lives in the present and _not get caught up in the past_. The world doesn't stop turning for you and you have to move on.

I stood up because I couldn't; wouldn't stay so close to him anymore.

"I just... miss you Casey. I don't need you to be my girlfriend or whatever, just that you be in my life in some way."

I turned to face him and I saw the pleading expression on his handsome face. He drove me to hell and back, but even I couldn't deny that having him back in my life was secretly a breath of fresh air – even if I felt like strangling the air out of him the entire time. The empty feeling I had been suffering with for years was slowly dissipating and I knew why.

"Okay."

"Okay? Okay what?" He asked hurriedly.

"I still need some time, to get used to this." I said then, and I felt my chest warm at the smile that spread across his face.

"Yeah, I know Case. This is..." he trailed off.

"Weird." I supplied, smiling through my tears.

"Weird yeah, but, I'm really happy about this. We've wasted so much time but I... I'm really happy." He said, lifting himself off the couch with strength I didn't know he possessed, walking over and holding me once again.

-

The next day he was in much better shape than he had been the night before, and he decided he would go home and give us space. It was weird being back in each other's lives with a conscious decision, and it would take some getting used to. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that the attraction was still there and probably always would be there, and I wondered – sure he wondered too – what that meant for us in the future.

It was sort of clear that jumping into a relationship now, or sometime down the road once we got used to each other again, wouldn't be that great of a decision. No odds were against us really, but I think we're both scared of the potential consequences that could arise from it. I didn't even fully trust him yet and he knew I couldn't be in a relationship like that.

It had been three weeks since I had seen him last, but he would call me now and then briefly to reassure me that he wasn't going anywhere much to my pseudo chagrin. He hadn't come back to the clinic and I laughed to myself sitting there at my desk because I had known all along that his doctor hadn't gone on vacation at all. Derek just wasn't a loyal patient.

Pat rang in on the intercom then. "Miss Casey, Little Derek is here."

"Aww, why do you always call me little?" I heard Derek's whiny voice in the background and I held back a laugh.

"Sure Pat, let him in, although he'd barge in here without my permission or not." I ended the transmission and arranged the files on my desk and waited for his arrival.

"So what's the deal, Case?" he asked promptly as he opened the door and sat himself down across from me.

"What's the deal with what?" I drawled, preparing myself to be teased for some inane thing.

"You know, how you only write in that pretty cursivy way for me and not for anyone else." He said smugly, and I set my eyes on him. How did he know about that? It was then that I noticed his hair was slightly wet and his skin was flushed, much like when he would come home after hockey practice.

He was _still playing hockey_. I swallowed my shock and made sure I responded quickly.

"I must have some sort of illness, you know, the one that allowed you to keep coming here over the last two months." I rolled my eyes. He smirk became wider if it was even possible.

"Hey, go and sit down on that bed over there and I'll take a look at you." He said seriously, but I could see his eyes glittering happily. He held out his hands and I reluctantly handed him my lab coat and stethoscope, and I wasn't sure how I knew what he wanted. I was briefly reminded of the last few times I made him lay down on that bed, and I felt shivers run through me. The morning sun filtered in through the plain white blinds and I stared at the way the sunlight caught his hair again.

Sitting up on the bed, my legs clad in stockings and heels hanging off the bed, Derek came up and stood in front of me, lab coat and all. He placed the buds of the stethoscope in his ear, taking the chest piece and laying it against the breast pocket of my blouse. I felt myself jump at the chilliness of it and he grinned.

The sounds of the cars whizzing by on the quiet street faded away, as did the sounds of Pat making appointments on the phone. I couldn't hear anything but my heart beating and I couldn't feel anything but the warmth flowing off of his body.

"Casey?"

"Hmm?"

"Your heart's beating awfully fast." I closed my eyes, because I _knew_ what would come. To hell with the past, to hell with reservations, to hell with insecurities. I threw it all away for him once, and I could do it again and again – because I would never stop loving him.

"Really? Sometimes it does that." I said softly. He grabbed my hand, and placed it on his chest above his heart. It was thumping hard against my hand, almost as if he reacted to my touch.

"Case?"

"Yeah?"

I opened my eyes, and he was smiling warmly at me again. This time, his eyes also captured that warmth and he leaned his forehead against mine.

"I'm going to kiss you now." He said, reaching up and cupping the side of my face, tangling his fingers in my hair.

"Okay."

And the moment his lips met mine, I knew he was lying when he said he didn't want to be with me again. I knew I was lying to myself when I said I didn't want it. We were lying to ourselves when we said we had done just fine without each other for so many years.

And the moment the kiss grew more passionate and his arms gripped at me like he was afraid to ever lose me again, I refused to think about how much time we had wasted, and I refused to wonder if there was a way to turn back time. It just didn't matter anymore.

"Will you always write in pretty handwriting for me?" he asked when he broke off the kiss, and I pulled him back, kissing him once more.

"Will you always kiss me like that?" I responded, and his eyes were impossibly dark. He only nodded and began unbuttoning my shirt, parting my legs open with his knees.

"Then you have a deal."

_end._


End file.
